video, appearing to enjoy himself. "
is cool, bro," Miyashiro told me. "He
genuinely likes Rich and us."
In the first year that Imanuel and
Miyashiro worked together, they
mostly talked on the phone, which
was complicated by the twelve-hour
time di erence between Jakarta and
New York. They finally met last May,
in Miami, where Imanuel performed
at Rolling Loud, one of the biggest
hip-hop festivals in the world. Back-
stage, Imanuel surprised the rapper
Post Malone with a mariachi band
that he had ordered using the mobile
delivery service Post Mates. The band
performed a buoyant rendition of Post
Malone's single "Congratulations," and
soon a video of the stunt was trend-
ing on social media. Miyashiro told
me that the clip initially grew out of
a discussion with Post Mates about
making a short video featuring Iman-
uel using the company's app to book
the band. But someone standing nearby
had captured the entire thing on his
cell phone and uploaded it himself,
thwarting the plan.
From politics to the pop charts, one
of the conditions of contemporary life
is our inability to distinguish organic
popularity from movements that have
been carefully engineered. The work
of making something go viral is largely
invisible. The entertainment business
has always worked this way---an illu-
sion of popularity can beget actual pop-
ularity. But, in the Internet age, the ve-
locity of change outpaces our ability
to process and reflect on it. When you're
constantly dealing with e ects, rather
than nursing skepticism about causes,
the stakes seem much higher.The am-
ateur video had accomplished the ini-
tial gag's aims: it got people to think
about Post Mates, and it made Iman-
uel seem like a sweet, endearing kid.
At Irving Plaza, fans arrived six
hours early to be the first ones inside.
The crowd was young, jubilant, and
diverse, heavy on college students in a
range of streetwear trends, from futur-
istic, utilitarian chic to vintage rap
T-shirts older than they were. They
chanted "Chigga! Chigga!" before
switching to "Brian! Brian!" "These
aren't K-pop pretty-boy motherfuck-
ers," Park told me, about rising's art-
ists. "These are all the outcast, weirdo
dudes. I think that's kinda refreshing,
because I think every Asian's kinda felt
like that, especially in America, whether
you're an F.O.B. or a nerd, a weirdo,
all these di erent things."
Imanuel sat in front of a mirror in
his dressing room, flanked by Mi-
yashiro and Joji. He stared at his reflec-
tion, dancing and rapping along to the
d.j.'s music. He seems comfortable in
his own skin, like someone who grew
up making faces on Snapchat and Vine.
He said that he was feeling a little
homesick after being on the road for
so long. "When I was thirteen, I was
super obsessed with this country," he
said. He had been in awe of the ac-
tors in the Indonesian action film "The
Raid," who parlayed its success into
playing bit parts in Hollywood block-
busters. He spoke with a soft defer-
ence, as though this were the voice he
reserved for adults. "I've always wanted
to come here. I've seen everything
on the Internet, really. It feels like a
second home."
Miyashiro, Joji, and Imanuel had a
clubby rapport.The d.j. played Drake's
"Know Yourself," and they began talking
about how the chorus---"Runnin'
through the with my woes"---had
been a perfect impetus for viral videos
involving Drake's woes, or running.
They discussed memes in the way that
a previous generation might have dis-
sected movies or an episode of a sit-
com. When Imanuel was ready to take
the stage, he removed his hoodie, re-
vealing a T-shirt that featured an il-
lustration of himself. The crowd sang
along to all his lyrics and knew all his
ad-libs. An audience member held up
a framed photograph of Imanuel as if
it were a devotional o ering. As Iman-
uel danced and leaped across the stage,
his small frame seemed to expand. He
had recently turned eighteen, and a few
members of rising's sta stood in the
wings, ready to wheel a giant cake on-
stage. Joji, wearing a Limp Bizkit base-
ball jersey, came out and sang a couple
of songs from his EP. It had been out
for only a few days, but the audience
sang along to his songs, too.
Shortly before the holidays, I met
Miyashiro at his home, in a part
of the Upper East Side where some-
one wearing a leather jacket with the
words "Road to Nowhere" across the
back, as he was, really stands out. We
waited in the lobby of his apartment
for one of his employees to deliver a
Christmas tree.
Imanuel, Joji, Keith Ape, and the
Higher Brothers were at the end of an
Asian tour that had sold out quickly.
Miyashiro wanted to do big things in
. rising had already sold out con-
certs in San Francisco, Los Angeles,
and New York. The sta were devel-
oping a television series. They are also
working on a crew album called "
Degrees and Rising," which Miyashiro